Do The Watergate Breakdown Harooo.

 
Hello, Universe.


Now, I probably need to say I am about to cover some heavy stuff in this particular blog entry. I don't want to bring anybody down, so if this sort of thing might do this, If you might be walking a similar tightrope to mine, You might want to skip up to the next one, Or proceed further with a bit of caution. If you've been caught in this particular whirlpool, then you, kindred sister, kindred brother, know the messed up thoughts that go can through our heads. I suppose that you know as well as I do, whether or not to proceed. Either way, much love. Doctor Blog-ieo is about to earn his keep. Then again, zero dollars is fairly easy to earn. Maybe I'll get more than my money's worth? Hopefully, because I've been such a freaked up mess of late.

I know this will sound dramatic, but it is just the way I feel. Of course there is a part of me that still cares about how I am perceived, But if I am to just be seen as some sort of drama queen, then so be it. I am just past the point of giving a shit about a lot of things any more. See, when you have been in this messed up game as long as I have, you begin to see patterns everywhere, not to mention a lot of repetition. It's the same old bull with a new coat of paint. You see it and you say to yourself, "This again?" It's like reading a book where the next chapter is just a totally re-worded version of the previous one. You just cannot invest yourself in something you already know the ending of. That's how I feel. I feel like a wayward spirit without a home. I have no demographic I belong to. Sure they could quote chapter and verse on the surface, But I am not a surface person, never was. It is true that I wear my heart on my sleeve and you can most always tell how I'm feeling, but that's not the same. How I feel and who I am are two subjects and not one. I am a wayward soul looking for a home, not a kingdom to rule, just a place to finally rest, belong, and maybe be loved. I am a disconnected spirit always having to stop myself from calling out to a mother who cannot be here, a good mother who did her best for me, but has exceeded her time on this earth. I know this.. Yet when I am on the line between wakefulness and sleep, when I am in a particularly stressful situation, that part of myself still asks for help. She can't help me. It isn't her fault. I honestly believed she did the best for me that she could. Still, All I have left are pictures, keepsakes, memories, and finally the genetics that contributed greatly to mine and Marsha's inner wiring. My mother cared, did the best she could, drove me totally crazy at times, But it was my baby sister who probably understood me best. I could not talk to my mother about a lot of things. There was just no way I could ever make her understand. Marsha, on the other hand, was facing a lot of the same inner battles that I was. To talk to my guardian sister was to have a warrior fighting these battles by my side instead of alone. It is my greatest hope that she too saw me fighting by her side. I saw her is my sister in spirit as well as biologically, that our souls were siblings of the universe. I felt that no matter what aspect of my life crumbled into sand, I would survive because I was not alone. My sister was Buffy, Alice Johnson, and Joan Of Arc all rolled into one. Her strength, caring, and courage could never be over stated. And even with all that strength, even while fighting her own battles sometimes, I cannot recall a single time she wouldn't drop everything to see if I was okay, to listen, to care. She always believed in me more than I believed in myself. I never understood that, always felt that I didn't quite deserve it. But still, she made me look at myself in a different light, and gave me a reason to try to live up to that image as best I could. I thought I knew just how important she was, just how much she meant to me. But it was her death that brought a tidal wave of the magnitude crashing down on my heart. I love my mother, always will. But I will admit here that the loss of my baby sister hurts me a thousandfold more. I know how this must sound, but I cannot change how I feel. To go further, I cannot help feeling that she was all I really had in that regard. Marsha was a pillar of strength. She was about as real as a human being can be. And though I am trying my best to say this in a way that does not hurt anybody (In my real life)'s feelings, This whole siblings of the universe thing I mentioned above does not extend to anyone else. I guess there is just no right way to say this. Spiritually, she was all I had. Without her, I am far lesser a being. I honestly have no one. Marsha could never be replaced or substituted for. That friendship can never be with anyone else and now, I'm going to tell you straight up why.

Look, You can be in the same room with someone. You can even be right next to them. But are they there? Believe me you will know this feeling of someone being there, yet not there. Now I am not saying you should let people smother you all the time you when you are just trying to breathe. Yes, yes, we have all got to breathe sometimes. But do you have to be like the former planet Pluto? Cold and distant all the time? Walled off, emotionally unavailable? And do you ever look out into the universe and see the pattern all around you? I am not saying you should open yourself up to just anyone, because yes there are some awful people out there who would take advantage of such vulnerability. But still.. Not all of us are 'just anyone'. It hurts you know, and do you know why? Well, the people who really do care, who are made to feel beyond reach, are hearing these unspoken words from you. "I don't trust you." "You are unimportant." or even "I secretly dislike you." This is what they hear. That gulf has always been there. It is why not all connections are equal. It is sadly why what I lost could never even be half replaced. Because, she was not Pluto, Not even Mars, she was the air on a warm summers day. She was the sunshine that brightened that day. She was the drop of rain that found my shoulder. For all the days that she could be there, she was. Even when she was far away, she was still there. In my better moments, I even feel she is still here in her own way. That is the difference. And that's why I find myself in this dark room crying by myself. I wish we could have been that way too, but now I know it just can never happen. Call it a new from of inertia. The older we get, the less it seems we change. Only the things around us do.


Now on to the rest of all that's been going through my mind. Let's line up all the demons and describe them one by one. Maybe this is a cheesy game show, with the little monsters being the contestants and I being the host. Winner gets my soul, I guess. Ever feel like you are in this crazy state of flux? Well, the flux is really just on the surface because at my core, these are things I have long known to be true. It is not about what's true or false. It is not about who I am or who I'm not. It is damn sure not about what anybody else thinks. (Remember what Freddy said to Zsa Zsa?) See? There is absolutely no doubt about what is and who is and yadda yadda yoda. The question is just how much should I actually express, and just what of it must remain confined to the figurative dark dungeon of never being expressed at all? I wouldn't say it's an identity crisis exactly because in my heart and soul, I know who I am. But maybe it could still be called that. There are times when a life, a persona, and a reflection can be quite the escape proof prison. Well, there is always one way, the subject of heavy thoughts that I sometimes frighten myself with. I work hard to drive them away by any means I have. But diversions and distractions can only go so far. What to do, what to do? Is there any real way forward that is going to make me feel any better about being in my own soul container. I seem to be out of phase. Maybe it just feels that way. I hate this feeling of isolation and disconnect. I hate that I can't make it go away. In a world that is supposed to be so damned interconnected, I really do feel like an island. Social media is no place to find validation. It is a deep, dark vortex that just sucks the life out of people. And if you're already feeling isolated, disconnected, drained, lonely, A Pentium III in a Speak-And-Spell, yadda yadda Yoda.. Social media will be the coup de grace. It is the mental equivalent of the worst junk food imaginable. It is slow poison for the soul. That's why I do most of my venting in this seldom seen quiet little corner of the internet. There is no comparison here, only me. There is no posing, portraying, or perpetrating here. This is about as real as it gets. Sure, someone may stumble across this someday, but my truth isn't really all that bad, just hard for anybody currently in my life to understand. Maybe a total stranger would fare better. I guess anxiety, depression, and dysphoria in its many forms are not all that uncommon. Grief is universal, too. Being a human being with messy emotions? Ditto. But, you've got to understand that I am coming from a place where it is very difficult to speak my mind, and even more to let my heart speak. There is so much I want to say that has been locked away for so very long now. Great Oblivia, it has been so long. It's like needing to shout out everything, but you are in one hell of a library, and it's improper to shout in a library. We don't need to shame or embarrass ourselves, do we? No, that would be bad. That genie is well contained in that bottle. If it is your first and most devout wish to let them out, all the wishes in the world will never put them back in. Once they're out, they're out forever. Disturb this quiet library, and there's no going back. So I find myself sitting, a book before me, at a desk at the edge of the universe. My chair seems to be perfectly balanced at the precipice, swaying one way or the other, depending on my emotions. Behind me is everything I have ever known. In front of me is a book and suspended desk, and the unknown void below. Do I take that step, that leap of faith, that fall of fate? And that very question begins the conversation between these fragments of my soul. Are we just going to stand here forever? Jonathan, I think I have been patient enough. Do this for me. I would hope you'd understand it's just not that simple. Should I go back over the reasons that kept manifesting in this past week alone? Look at that great invisible wall that surrounds us. What should befall us if we were to realize this great escape is nothing of the sort? That it leads to a darker place where thoughts may very well grow heavy enough to crush us, strong enough to defeat us? This place may be a lonely limbo, but here we can hold our own. It may be a stalemate, but it's still better than a defeat. Is it? How much longer, then? Is this living? Is it really? Nothing is forever. 2022 sure drove that point home. Defeat is not any more permanent than victory. And maybe it leads to the open arms of Oblivia. Didn't you say she was waiting? And if so, not even this turmoil shall outlast her. Tell me, what's it going to be? Make a damn decision for once in your life! I love you, but your wavering really pisses me off sometimes. But what about all this talk of genies and bottles and libraries best not disturbed? Don't you see? There is no going back. If I step off this cliff, the fall will commence. Then should we just turn around and go back the way we came? That path would hold no less uncertainty, you know. You think you know it, but you don't. Just because you've been there before does not mean it's going to be the same place. Time is a distance of its own, yet another lesson of 2022. In whatever direction we choose, it's still going to be forward. Time is like that, you know? Time is the ultimate troll. I can almost hear it laughing at us, that bastard. No keyboard warrior on the internet could ever challenge the trolldom of time. When the clock seems to jump 5 minutes for every single one when we're running late, and seems to stretch one hour into three when we're so tired and wanting to just go home. How it flies when we're having fun and creeps when we're miserable. When memories seem close enough to touch, but are an eternity away. When we go from young and bright to old and fading in the blink of an eye, standing on this edge of eternity. Time is the king of trolls, worthy of a grand castle, and too good to live under a bridge. Time is the troll of trolls, with a malicious relish and a devious zeal. Doctor Soran from Star Trek Generations was absolutely right. Except about destroying Veridian IV. As beautiful as the nexus is, I couldn't hurt anyone to get there. All the shards of myself at least agree on that one unimportant hypothetical situation. If it were not a work of fiction, Trekdom would be the new religion, a more perfect one where you could reach the heavens by actually being yourself, a place where humanity finally drops the bullshit and works together for the betterment of all. Sadly, I just don't see it happening in the 21st or even the 23rd century. I'm afraid recent history proves we are totally screwed. I hope I am wrong. Being right is not always a good thing. Not for a pessimist anyway. I love it when hope proves me wrong. It has been a long time. Okay maybe a slight subject change? Oaky Doky. Clean cup move down.


A long time ago, in a galaxy known as the Milky Way, I had a lot of my high school stuff in one place, Diploma, yearbooks, yadda yadda. Well, to make a long story short and not bring up 15 year old drama, let's just say somebody thought they'd make a point by throwing all that stuff out into the rain while I was at work. But... my point is I would be interested in finding a copy of my yearbooks, Junior and Senior, as well as getting my diploma reprinted. Without the signatures of my friends and classmates, the yearbooks would hold less meaning, but watching my final kid graduate this week has renewed my interest in finding a copy. Guess I should finally look into it after all these years. As for past drama, that is something I try to forget most of the time. It has no bearing on 2023, except I am missing items that had some sentimental value, lost to so more than just time, and maybe some of my trouble today is an echo of that time. I'm not exactly a therapist, and Doctor Blog-ieo is just a blank page I vent to. As I may or may not have mentioned, and not to downplay hell year 2022, I went through some heavy shit in the years 1998 to 2009 or so. Never buy groceries when you're hungry. Never get married just because you're lonely. Some people will make you far more lonely than being alone, and even relish in your misery. Evil is rarely ugly at first glance. The mask only comes off when the pearly gates close, leaving you in that other place. Hell is never ugly on the outside. Does a Venus flytrap or a pitcher plant look scary to the fly? No. Hell is on the inside. My past self would never believe me, but I promise it's true. Look before you leap, lovers. Make sure that beautiful face is more than a mask. I wish I did. But... Still no rewind, right? You know? If I could afford a head doctor, I'm sure they could trace a few of my eccentricities to some of the hell I went through back then. No doubt that plus 22 has made me into the human I am today. I am self aware to the point where I know when emotion may not match the situation. I have to be. I have to stop and determine if it's the situation or if it's me. I sometimes ask myself whether I'm being childish or petty when feeling hurt or excluded by certain things, or if maybe my feelings are actually valid. Sometimes they are. Sometimes, they need rethinking. And I'm never sure until I take some time to think. After all, we humans aren't the most rational of beings. Guess it's good that I've traveled long enough on the road of life that I at least ask myself the question. Hopefully, it shows a bit of maturity, that there is more to the world than seen through my eyes. I may not be the center of the universe, but a little acknowledgment that I am somewhere in said universe. Am I being unreasonable? Am I? Every time I think I've sorted myself out, I find myself like this again. Marsha would have understood. It was through nobody's choice that she would understand. When that so-called grand designer was handing out internal wiring, she and I got the same arcing, sparking set. That was why I understood her, and she understood me. As I said, our respective phone numbers were each other's crisis hotlines. Call a stranger? Hell no. Call my sister, yes way. What the hell would a stranger know? Still, even if my feelings are what most reasonable human beings would feel, I still wouldn't want to start up any unnecessary drama. I am just too damn old and too damn tired for that. Besides, there are times from my past when I was served up drama when all I wanted was peace, at most any cost. Sometimes, I even sacrificed my dignity, something I could never do again. After all, lose your dignity, and you lose your peace, too. That was a tough lesson to learn. That was a lesson I was finally able to put behind me. That was a situation I finally found myself on the other side of. But, this one? This one? It seems so damned insurmountable.

(Clean Cup Move Down)

Random Thought 1:

Crowds, be they of people or of people in cars, is something I have never exactly handled well. (At least in my mind) (Maybe I fake it well outwardly) ..  Still there are moments in life even people like myself will take a deep breath and brave the crowd.  And maybe you have seen me do this once in a while. It's far from easy for me, but there have been moments...

I know this may seem silly or even dumb from the outside looking in.  People who have never dealt with this flavor of anxiety could never really understand, so maybe there is no clear way to say this.

But if you want to kind of read my mind and know how I feel about someone, there is a way....  See there is this short list that doesn't even include myself of people I would walk through this figurative fire for...  You will find them when you see me brave the big city or the big event or the (imagined) automotive pandemonium.  It is strange how one can be so much stronger for somebody they love than for themselves.

Random Thought 2:

Seeing people flirting with one another in the comment section of Facebook ads for food, no less... Guess it makes about as much sense as Tindr or whatever that site is called. "So, where did you two meet?"  "In a pizza ad." We have nothing in common except a love for Little Caesars. Dearly beloved, we are gathered together in our common love of pepperoni and cheese. May the Noid bless you and keep you and not ruin your pizza. Or your marriage.